That's Alright, Dumbledore's a Handsome Fellow
by Siriusly in Lurve
Summary: "Congrats, you've achieved a level of intelligence and deductive reasoning slightly above that of a vegetable," A bit of banter between Lily and James. In which many unfortunate but truthful things are blurted out.


**Disclaimer: I don't own James Potter, the teddy-bear-loving fool, or any of his best mates. (Nor do I own his Lily-Flower for that matter, or anything to do with HP.)**

"Hullo, Beautiful," says Potter, grinning at me.

"You had better be talking to Remus, Potter," I say, glaring at him. I'm walking to my next class with Remus Lupin, discussing our Charms essay due next week, and now that prat is trying to ruin my day, once again. Yes, I know that sounds odd. You'd think a girl would like to be called beautiful. And normally, I would, were it not for the fact that the person calling me beautiful is not only the world's biggest toerag, but also the most arrogant, insufferable being I have ever met!

"Please don't be, Prongs," says Remus, looking more than a little scared.

"Uh.... Er, sorry Evans, I just see Moonsy here as a mate. And dude, if you have to worry about that from any of our mates, it's not me. Though I did see Peter lurking by your wardrobe.... just sayin'." Potter remarks to the sandy-haired boy beside me, shrugging.

Remus looks alarmed and starts to back up, as if he thinks he should be guarding his wardrobe from Pettigrew right now. "Well then, Prongs, I think I'll be going, g'bye. Bye Lily, see you in Potions," he offers me a hasty half-wave before starting off in another direction.

I glower at him and pull on his sleeve. "Remus John Lupin if you leave me here with him I will--" Remus shrugs me off and continues in his assumed quest to protect his belongings. Stupid, mean werewolf! How dare he leave me alone with... _that_. "BUGGER you, Lupin! You are SO going to get it at patrols tomorrow!" I yell after him.

Potter slips an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "So, my pretty little Tiger-Lily, now that we're all alone, maybe you'd like to accompany me to the nearest--"

Keeping as calm as possible, I remove his filthy limb from my person. I scowl at him. "Finish that sentence and I'll castrate you faster than you can say, 'No kids for Potter'"

"Duly noted. So, Evans. Got any plans for the next Hogsmeade trip?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," I tell him sharply. It so pisses him off when he thinks I'm near males he can't 'trust'. But then, he injures those males, and that pisses me off, which result in many, many shouting matches and hexes (mostly from me) flying all about. I'm proud to say I've landed the git in the hospital wing more than once. He is not my boyfriend, or even my friend for that matter. He has no right to be even remotely protective, let alone the overly-dramatic fits of jealousy he has for no bloody reason.

Potter's eyes widened, and then narrow. He appears murderous. "What, who is he?! I'll kill 'im! I'll beat him to the ground! I'll hex him to Japan! Wait... is he bigger than me? Oh, screw it, I'll kill him anyways!" he makes a violent gesture mid-air.

I sigh, and correct him before he hurts a passer-by. "Her, Potter."

"Huh?"

"My plans in Hogsmeade are with a _her_. Not a him." I say.

"Merlin, I didn't know you swung that way.... this changes everything! Oh hell, does this mean I have to dress in drag? Because I do NOT look good in a skirt!"

Now he's just being ridiculous! I don't have a boyfriend, and sure I haven't had one in a while, but that's just because he scares off any guy who wants anything to do with me. It's like I have a 'Property of Potter' sticker on my forehead. I dated a Muggle boy last summer, but I'm not into the whole long distance relationship thing. But I am not into girls that way! "It's not a _date, _you sodding git! Mary and I are looking for shoes, before we meet Alice and Frank later! And I don't want to know how you even know that last part."

He looks thoughtful. "Not a date? Then you're still single, and a beautiful, charming, talented, available young female like yourself should have the company of an equally good looking, charming, talented, available young man when in Hogsmeade, should she not?"

"Sure, let me know if you find one."

"... I meant me." Potter says.

"I know."

"I'm handsome."

"Not really,"

"Charming?" he asks, looking a little desperate.

"Not by my standards, you pompous, arrogant toerag!" I pick up my pace, so I can ditch him. Unfortunately, he just lengthens his strides to match my speed.

"I'm pretty talented in exams. And come _on_, you have to admit I'm decent at Quidditch. I've been captain since fifth year!" That's actually true, though I hate to admit it. I come to most matches if I can, and Potter is the best flyer out there by far and even I, who is hopeless at following sports, magical or otherwise, can see it.

"Alright, Potter, I'll say this of you: you sure know how to handle your balls and broomsticks."

At first, he doesn't notice my smirk and seems to think what I've said is intended as a compliment."Why thank you... HEY! I didn't miss the double meaning in that sentence, Evans."

I clap my hands together in mock appreciation. "Congrats, you've achieved a level of intelligence and deductive reasoning slightly above a vegetable,"

Potter frowns. "I'm hurt," he says, an exaggerated look of despair on his face.

I feign being apologetic. "Oooh, I'm sorry! Did the big words hurt Potter's lil' noggin? Well, in-tell-i-gence is this thing that we -we, being those with IQs over 12 and 1/2- use our _brains _for. You know, the thing that you store all the Quidditch stats, pranks, and conquests in? Ring a bell?" I speak to him slowly, as if to a toddler.

"You are not a very nice person. Remind me again why I fancy the pants off you?" he asks, looking like the child I'm treating him as. I think that he should keep all comments involving my pants and him to himself. Not that he'd care if I said anything.

"Lack of brain cells?" I suggest.

"There it is. That lovely sense of humor you have is positive wonderful, my darling Lily Pad."

His nicknames will drive me bonkers. I'll end up killing him at this rate. Though I suppose Azkaban will be a treat next to this. I yell in his face,"I'M NOT _YOUR_ LILY-ANYTHING, YOU OBNOXIOUS PRAT!"

"Another thing, your adorable attempts to deny your feelings for me, and that cute little temper-- Ouch! That was my head!"

"You deserve much more than a smack in the head, Potter." I snarl vehemently.

That annoying pervert can see the innuendo in anything and says with a smirk, "That could be taken in more than one way, darling.... OW! You know, if you keep injuring me, you'll damage our chances at the Quidditch Cup!" I think at any given point in the day, if you were to look at in a heterosexual male wizard's mind, there would be two things ever-present there: Girls and Quidditch. If I broke his legs (and I'm tempted to) the first thing he'd probably say is 'Oh no! I'll miss training tomorrow!'

"That's a price I'm willing to pay."

He gasps, a look of utter betrayal on his face. "Say it ain't so, Evans. Where's your house pride?! Where's your sense of unity?! And, most importantly, where would you like to meet me this Saturday for our date?!"

You'd think by now he'd know when to leave well enough alone. "You don't really have to ask what I'm going to do next."

Potter sighs, conceeding. "Try and leave the left side alone, it's already throbbing.... Evans! I said to IGNORE the left side!"

"I heard you. I chose to _ignore_ your advice," I snap.

"You know babe, you're gorgeous, smart, awesome and all, but there's only so much my poor head can take," he remarks, pouting. Does he think thats attractive? Because I think it makes him look rather like a fish. If only he were.... at least fish can't talk. 'Course he'd probably find some other way to annoy me anyways. Pushing his fish head against the glass or something like that.... Ugh, Potter-as-a-fish image is getting way too freaky.

"First: Do. Not. Call. Me. Babe. Second: does that mean if I beat you enough, you'll leave?!" This is an exciting prospect. I've never though of it that way. I just think inflicting physical pain on Potter is the way I retain my sanity. I may have to invest the shoe money I've saved up to buy a bat.

"No, love, it means I'll have to start wearing a helmet around you soon. And it will make it so much more difficult to stare into those captivating eyes..." here, Potter begins to look at me like, like he has for the past six years. This pathetic, longing, dopey-eyed look that Alice has called 'sweet' and Mary has called 'adorable' (At their remarks I promptly told them what I thought of it, 'creepy').

He doesn't speak for several minutes. He's still giving me 'the look'. It's sort of starting to scare me.

STILL giving me the look.

I'm officially scared.

"Stop staring at me!" I order, trying to snap him out of it. I think Potter's eyes have glazed over at this stage. I once heard Black calling this stage of his infatuation, 'Being off in Lily-Land'.

At my words, if anything, his longing stare intensifies, and now I'm starting to think he's gone a little brain-dead. Well, more brain-dead than he already is, anyway. Ew. I think he's drooling a bit. (Why couldn't I have a nice boy have a crush on me? I'd much prefer a sweet, shy glance to this obsessive, stalker stare.

"I said STOP!" I say more loudly, trying to catch his attention.

"... Let's have kids." Potter murmurs under his breath, and I cannot believe what I just heard. _Kids?! _I'm in sixth year, I haven't even thought about kids, let alone with someone whom I despise. What. The. Hell. Goes. On. In. Potter's. Mind? (If he has one, that is. I'm still looking into it. No one can be as stupid as him and still have a functioning brain, can they?)

"What?!" I exclaim, shock apparent in my voice.

"Nothing." he says quickly, embarassed. He has officially snapped out of Lily-Land, and I might just have to make reality smack him painfully in his arrogant, so-not-as-handsome-as-he-thinks-it-is face.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Potter, I distinctly heard you say--"

"--I still sleep with a teddy bear!" he bursts out, looking shocked at himself. A teddy bear?! Seriously?! He's what, seventeen, Captain of the Quidditch team, self-proclaimed Marauder, extremely popular, and considered by some --I really hate to admit this, but it's plain to see that half the girls at this school are daft-- one of the, er, fittest boys at Hogwarts.... and he has a fluffy little stuffed toy that he cuddles at night. I laugh mentally at the image.

Soon, I'm laughing aloud. I struggle to speak through bouts of uncontrollable giggles and chuckles. "You..." Laugh. "sleep with a ...." Snort. "teddy bear?" More giggles erupt from my mouth as I complete the unimaginable sentence.

Potter blushes, looking even more embarassed. Huh. I didn't even know Marauders had the ability to turn scarlet. If it were anyone else, this would actually be quite sweet. "Uh, if I say I was kidding, will you believe me?" he says weakly, staring at his feet.

I try hard to contain my amused smile. "Not in this lifetime."

He desperately pulls at any excuse he can find. "Then, it's an action figure!" I must look surprised, because he next says, "Yes, I know what action figures are, Evans, I've taken Muggle Studies since third year. But it's a very manly, macho action figure..." he deepens his voice to go with the whole, 'macho' persona.

"Do your mates know you play with dolls and fluffy little teddy bears?" I ask with a condescending smirk. Oh how nice it is to be the one with the upper hand.

"An. Action. Figure." he repeats stubbornly.

I feign a coughing fit. "Teddy bear," I say through the fake coughs.

"Mr. Snuggles is not a-- I mean, uh, The Snugglenator-- Er, wait, Mr. S-- Oh bugger," Oh my. Not only has the boy a fuzzy little animal toy, he's named it Mr. Snuggles. I think this has been one of the most entertaining moments of my life. Right under the time Black had a sign on his back (Potter had put it on him of course) which said 'If you think I'm a git, call me Freddie' and Black went the whole day with no idea why all the Hogwarts staff addressed him as Freddie instead of his name. I still don't think he knows.

I smile evilly. "It's alright, I'll keep your dirty little secret."

"Thanks, but what's the catch?" he asks cautiously, raising an eyebrow. It seems the git possesses a little more common sense than I give him credit for.

"I won't tell your prat buddies about, ahem, 'Mr. Snuggles' if you agree to stop asking me out. For good."

He frowns deeply. "Evans, that's not fair. I'm fairly certain that's verging on blackmail." Maybe so. But if he wants something from me, it's only reasonable that I'd request something back. And this is something I want that he can give me.

"Take it, or the teddy bear is known by all of Hogwarts!" I'm backing him into a tough corner (figuratively, of course, I wouldn't let myself anywhere Potter and a corner) and he knows it. It depends what he cares more about, his bloody persistent infatuation, or his reputation. Fingers crossed that it's the rep.

He pauses for just a moment, and grabs my hand. I drop my jaw in surprise at his nerve, but he pays me no heed because he's dragging me alongside him to some classroom (Oh Merlin, I've probably missed more than half of Transfiguration, McGonagall will have a fit!)

"Potter! What are you doing?! Why are you pulling us into that classroom, there are people in there--"

Potter clears his throat, and begins to speak to the classroom full of seventh year Gryffindors, several whom he is mates with though he's a year younger. "Attention Hogwarts students: I, James Potter, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, sixth year, and Marauder, own a teddy bear named Mr. Snuggles. Whom I still have in my dormitory currently, and sleep with every night. Thank you for your time." he completely ignores the look of disbelief/amazement in random-professor-woman's face. He bows to his seventh year audience.

I whisper to him, a tiny (like, microscopic) part of me feeling a bit sorry for him,"You are so idiotic, Potter, they will be making fun of you for-- wait, are they applauding?! What the bleeding hell is going on?!" This isn't possible. Only James Potter can make a room full of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds think snuggling with a teddy bear is... _cool_.

"I dunno, I think they think I'm... _brave _or something for admitting to Mr. Snuggles... That worked out better than I'd hoped. Let's skidaddle before the Professor kills us," he tugs on my hand, which I didn't realize until now he's still holding, and bolts out of the classroom. Since he has longer legs, I sort of lag behind, but he determinely pulls me along at his speed.

Running away, I comment, shaking my head incredulously, "Skidaddle? Sometimes I question your sanity...."

"Take that back!" he protests, a look of great offence on his face. Really, you'd think he'd expect comments like that by now....

"Alright, I question your sanity _all _the time, happy now?" I ask him sarcastically, removing my hand from his. (I should pay more attention to that. I've just realized; I was seen in front of a quarter of seventh year holding hands with James 'The Toerag' Potter.)

"I'm always happy to be in your presence dollface," Potter comments with a wink. Honestly, it's hard to be bothered with stopping his nicknames today, he just won't stop.

I sigh, frustrated. "Do I need to hit you again?" I ask him, raising an eyebrow-- as well as my fist.

Potter shrugs, grinning playfully."I'd prefer you didn't. Owwwww! Must you ignore EVERYTHING I say?" he whines, rubbing his now sore head.

"Not necessarily, I just often tend to want to do the opposite,"

He beams, a stupid idea obviously coming straight afterwards. "Alright, then DON'T go out with me, Evans," Potter tells me, trying to be serious. Psh. He thinks he can use reverse psychology on me? I _invented _reverse psychology. (Well, you know, not really. But I do use it a lot. It's like one my Lily Evans trademarks. Like Alice's hyper attitude, or the Marauders' smirk. {Great Godric, I did _not _just compare myself to the Marauders! You heard nothing!})

"Okay, I won't go out with you," I grin, seeing his expression fall immediately. Silly dumb-arse. Totally walked into that one, he did.

"But... you said..." Potter splutters, looking crestfallen.

"I said often, not always." I say condescendingly, then I flip my hair, which whips him in the face, before strutting away. I'm sort of amused by his antics currently. When he's not being a prat, he's not a horrid person to be in the prescence of. Wowza, never thought I'd see the day when I'd think that!

He catches up to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "You're really not going to say yes to me today, are you?" he sighs, exasperation hinted in his voice.

"I'm not planning on it." I reply honestly, shrugging him off, but not glaring as per usual. I'll admit the boy is sort of growing on me. Maybe, in the future, if he lays off the stalking and matures a bit, we could be friends.

"There's always tomorrow. Patience is a virtue, you know. I'm firm in my belief that some day, the girl who literally caught my eye not with her looks, but with her first, will let me in, and hopefully, she'll like what she sees. G'bye Beautiful." he murmurs softly, and starts to walk away. I can't help myself from thinking that maybe he does really fancy me. A little bit.

"Maybe he's not so bad after all," I whisper to myself, biting my lip.

"What was that, Lily-Flower?" inquires Potter pleasantly, turning around.

"--I used to have a crush on Dumbledore!" I blurt out, and slap a hand to my mouth in horror.

To my surprise, he doesn't tease me or make some sexual innuendo. He just chuckles and says, "That's alright Lily-Flower, Dumbledore's a handsome fellow."


End file.
